The Five Love Languages
by Ezellia
Summary: Love is expressed in many different ways. The main five are; words, gifts, acts of service, quality time, and physical touch. And for his grumpy Dr. Bones, Jim will express his love time and time again, any way he can. Foul language, comedy/fluff/angst
1. Words of Affirmation

**AN:  
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Love is expressed in many ways. For Jim and Bones, this is just one of five.

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><p><strong>Words of Affirmation<strong>

This was the fifth time in a month the kid was borderline passed out on his stool, back slouched and face downcast as he pouted over the bar top. The tender tried his best not to get sucked in, but something about how depressed the kid looked was just irresistible.

His name was James Kirk. James Tiberius, or so he'd heard. Something about him was so goddamn off tonight. And not in a subtle way. It was actually very hard not to notice. More like holy shit the Earth's about to go down in flames.

Because James rejected a woman. Rather harshly, one might add.

He'd come wobbling in, already drunk off his ass. The bartender had paid no particular attention, sometimes he came here after getting himself kicked out of another bar. But then again, he usually had followers. And a dumbass smile on his face.

Today, as he stumbled to the counter and miraculously found himself a stool, he had neither. Of the few ten o'clock usuals that were used to Jim Kirk's grand entrance, they knew something was off. And no dared offer to buy him a round. After a while of moping and just grumbling to himself, Jim Kirk wrapped the bar top with split knuckles, smudges of blood spread across them.

The bartender dropped a glass of brandy before his slouched form, avoiding eye contact like a Klingon STD. And James Kirk wouldn't seem to have it any other way as he kept his head down, save for tossing it back once or twice to swallow the alcohol. Otherwise, his cheek was plastered to his arm, pillowing it against the countertop as he nursed his drink.

The bartender couldn't keep his eyes off those bleeding knuckles. Something about them seemed wrong. The kid was obviously in a fight. Usually when that happens, he comes sauntering into the bar like he's the returning hero of Earth. His behavior suggested he lost the fight. But the kid never lost the fight.

After that the bartender decided to keep a discreet eye on the kid that no one had yet approached. And of course, James Kirk being James Kirk, the second he turned his back on the kid…

"GET OFF ME YOU SLUT!"

The bartender comes running out of the backroom, the desired bottle of vodka in hand for another customer, when he was James Kirk flapping an awkward arm at an appalled looking woman. The bartender noted a red lipstick colored smear on Jim's indignant cheek.

"What the fuck, Jimmy?" The Terran woman cried, stomping her high heels onto the wood paneled floor. "What's with you tonight?"

By now the bar was quiet, every customer, even the ones drunk of their asses, were watching Jim and the woman that comes flaunting every now and then.

"Just-" Jim almost falls off his chair, thrown off balance by the waving of his own arm. "Jus- back off, get it?" He lays his head back in his arms on the bar top. "Fuck off."

The woman's about to bring her long nailed hand across Jim's head when the bartender steps in, holding out the bottle of vodka by the neck like a sword in front of her. "Back off sweet cheeks. Go find someone else tonight."

After she stomps off in a huff, the room gradually returns to normal, and Jim Kirk has yet to remove his silently sobbing face from the countertop. The bartender goes about his prior task, pouring a fresh Vodka for a customer before waving all the others from the counter. When they're gone, he walks over to Jim Kirk and leans over, resting his elbows in front of the Starfleet Cadet.

"What's the matter, kid?" He asks, despite his better judgment.

When Jim looks up, his eyes are red and teary, his face contorted in a strange pain. It looks like he's ready to spill his heart out as he opens his mouth. Before he can, the blond snaps his mouth shut and looks dejectedly to the side.

"Nothing."

Good lord, this man is an overgrown child, the bartender says to himself. He's suddenly regretting asking, but he has two kids of his own, and he knows how to handle himself. "You're shittin' me kid. The fuck's wrong?"

Jim looks up again. He gives the bartender an even stare until he breaks out in fully body sobs, thankfully drowned out by the sound of the bar crowd. "Fucking love!"

Oh good lord, is all the bartender can say.

"Yeah, so?" He asks, ignoring his brain telling him to bail on the situation. "What's up with the lady friend?" The bartender notices Jim twitch. "Ah," He says knowingly. "She's a lady _friend_."

"Prolly." Jim finally admits, laying his cheek against the bar top. He stares distractedly into his brandy shot, eyes never leaving the amber liquid. "_Best _friend. Not sure if it was love in the fir' place." He drunk hiccupped. "Prolly never will be now."

"You get into a fight with the boyfriend?" The bartender asks, nodding his head at the cracked and bleeding knuckles on Jim's punching fist.

"Ain't got a boyfriend." Is all Jim chokes out. "I'd know. Been livin' togeth'r f'rever now."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Wham Bam Thank you Ma'am" Kirk was shacking up?

"Who'd you fight with then?" Now the bartender's intrigued. "Her dad?"

"No." Is all Jim chokes out for now. The bartender gives the kid a moment to dry heave and sob until he's back to the conversation. "Fuckin' amazing. No one better in th' fuckin' world. Goddamn beautiful and sexy and sweet and caring and every godamn thing any man wants f'rever."

"Mmm." The bar tender wordlessly agrees. If only he had a nickel for every time he'd heard this sob story.

"Best thing t'ever happen t'me." Jim hiccups again and wipes his running nose in an incredibly unattractive fashion. Which was very unlike him. Normally every move made by James Kirk was oozing sexual prowess.

And here he was, crying his eyes out and getting snot all over his cadet reds like the world just fuckin' imploded. "This lady friend sounds like a catch."

"Best fucking parent in the world." Jim mumbles. His eyes were drying and his wracked breathing was evening out. "Loving and nice. Perfect in every way."

"So what's wrong with this lady friend?" The bartender asks. "You tell her how you feel yet?"

"Fuck no!" Jim squeaks. "Too goddamn good for me." He puffs out. The bartender naturally assumes this girl's not one he's ever seen with James Kirk in this kind of setting before.

"Well she hasn't rejected ya yet." He offers. A customer comes up for a refill, and the bartender sends him away with a glare. "Worth a shot, right?"

Jim snorts and shakily picks himself up from the counter so he's slouched but upright. "Not gon' love a bastard like me." He wipes his nose on his sleeve again. Gross. "Not now."

"What happened?"

"Got in a fight." Jim offers pathetically, cradling his punching fist in the other hand against his chest.

"Did you fucking punch her?" The bartender asks with shock. Jim Kirk may be a promiscuous gentleman, but he was a gentleman nonetheless.

"I can't fuckin' take it!" Jim cries suddenly, throwing his arms up in the air and almost falling off the stool again. "I fucking love! Love, like love! Not some goddamn crush! Love damnit!"

Jim falls to the counter again. Crying and sobbing like a drunk baby. "Should be mine. M'lovin' more than anyone else in the world. Should be with me."

At this point, the bartenders feeling pretty goddamn sympathetic. So he pours Jim another brandy- on the house- and the kid takes it in one go. Should probably slow down, the bartender thinks to himself but pours another drink anyways.

"She's not gonna know you love her till you say somethin', kid." The bartender offers pathetically. He can't think of much else to say now.

"Even if," Jim hiccups again. "Even if- uh- loves me. Ain't happenin'." The alcohols getting to him. "Deserves better. More than me. A pathetic man-slut with daddy problems up the wazoo."

The bartender had no idea what the hell a wazoo was, but everyone in San Francisco, hell, everyone on Earth, knows George Kirk. Fuckin' hero, that man. It'd been a sad day in San Fran that day. The bartender remembers dedicating the strongest drink he'd ever had to that man. And here was his son. His precious, fucked up son, crying his eyes out in a no-name Starfleet bar with a woman haunting his heart.

"You're more than you give yourself credit for." Is all the bartender says, because he sure as hell can't argue the whole 'man-slut' thing.

"It hurts so much." James Kirk sobs again, burying his tired face and pounding head in his hands. "So FUCKING much." After that, Jim falls asleep quietly at the bar. But he continues to talk in his sleep for the next few hours.

"I love you…"

Since it would be humiliating for Jim to be carried into the back break room where there's an actual couch, the bartender just lets him sleep at the counter, keeping an extra close eye on him. It looks like he left his place in a rush; he doesn't have a wallet, a PADD, or a communicator.

So the bartender lets him sleep and figures he'll deal with him at closing time in the morning.

After the crowds cleared out and it's closing time, every passed out drunkard from the bar has been picked up by a friends or family with profuse apologies and promises that they won't be anymore trouble. The bartender collects the tab and sends them on their way.

And finally, James Kirk is the last slumbering form in the room. The bartenders eyeing him grumpily when there's a knock on the open bar door and a southern drawl from outside.

"Hello?"

The bartender turns, his arms still crossed, to see a man dressed in cadet reds. Hard to guess the guy's age, but he's older than Jim. And he has a bright blue and purple black eye. "I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but I've been to every bar in this town looking for-"

The Starfleet cadet sees Jim passed over the bar, and the tender allows the man to go running to the kid with concern slapped across his face. "Jim?" The man grabs the passed out blond by the shoulders and pulls him upright. "Jim? Damnit, where have you been?"

"He passed out a while ago." The bartender offers.

The other cadet lets out an exasperated sigh before gently setting Jim back against the counter. He walks over to the tender, apology written across his face. "I'm so sorry to trouble you. I'll take him home right away."

"No worries." The bartender shakes his outstretched hand, glad to finally have the kid out of his hair.

"The name's McCoy. Leonard McCoy." The southern gentleman says with a pleased air about him. As the bartender goes back to wiping the countertop, Leonard is at Jim's side, running a tricorder over the drunk boy.

A doctor, the bartender thinks to himself. "He's fine. Just drunk."

Leonard frowns to himself. "That's weird…"

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, nothing," He says distractedly. "It's just… Jim handles his alcohol pretty damn well."

"He was pretty upset today."

"Any idea what over?" The man asks hesitantly. Like he already knows the answer, but needs confirmation. "Specifically?"

"Not at all." The bartender lies. It would slaughter the James Kirk reputation if any of his friends knew how soft and heartbroken the kid was.

"I'm so sorry about all the trouble he's caused you." Leonard says. The doctor's shuffling through his pants pocket until he pulls out a scrap of paper with a number scribbled on it. "My contacts." The doctor explains, handing it to the bartender who gives it a once over before pocketing it. "If this happens again, just ring. I'll be here in minutes."

The bartender nods politely and Leonard walks over to the slumbering boy. With a grunt and surprisingly strength for his tired looking body, the doctor heaves the blond easily into his arms bridal style.

Jim grumbles feebly in his sleep, groaning and resisting to the sudden movement, though not conscious. "Shhh," Is all Leonard says, and immediately the kid quiets down, recognizing the sound and the voice in his sleep. "S'okay kid, I got ya."

"Want some ice for that shiner?" The bartender asks, nodding at the black and blue around the hazel eye.

"Nah." Is all the doctor says. "I deserved it." He whispers, almost lovingly as he watches the kid dreaming in his arms.

The bartender follows the two men, offering to hold the door open for Leonard as he steps out into the night. "Need a cab?"

"Nah, we live pretty close." Leonard says distractedly, shuffling the squirming blond in his arms in an attempt not to drop him on his blond ass.

The bartender crosses his arms in the doorway, just now wondering if giving an unconscious Jim to this man was a good idea. "You gotta do this a lot for Jim?"

"Yeah." Leonard says with a sarcastic smile. "He's worse than my five year old daughter."

"How do you know Jim?"

"We're roommates at the academy."

And then it hits him.

_Been livin' togeth'r f'rever now. Goddamn beautiful and sexy and sweet and caring and every godamn thing any man wants f'rever_._ Best fucking parent in the world. _

The bartender can't help but burst out laughing and Leonard gives him a confused look. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing." The bartender says between stifled laughs. Who'dve thought that James Tiberius freaking Kirk was into men?

"Alright…" Leonard frowns and begins walking down the street back to the academy. Jim squawks out in his sleep again and Leonard curses. "Jim! Cut it the hell out!"

Behind him, he hears the bartender call out into the dead of night; "That kid's gonna be something amazing someday! Give him a chance!"

The door to the bar closes, and Leonard is left standing confusedly in the street.

And safely cuddled in his arms, Jim lashes out in his sleep, whacking Leonard in the face for the second time that day. This time, he's fighting Klingons in his sleep.

"I'm a doctor Jim, not a punching bag!"

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>

****Thanks so much for reading! Next one is gift giving!

Ezellia


	2. Gift Giving

**AN:**

I hope you like it.

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><p><strong>Gift Giving<strong>

Jim likes to think of himself as a wildcat. Stalking its prey with horrifying precision. He likes to think of himself as the lion, his roar loud and his muscles rippling with the adrenaline rush he gets from hunting down a Romulan ship and crushing it with one fell swift if need be.

He sure as hell considered himself a tiger in bed, but that was beside the point.

And now, Jim likes to think of Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Sassypants- _damnit, Jim, I'm an officer!-_ as his gazelle. His newest prey. When Jim Kirk first laid eyes on the drunk doctor with a train wreck life, he knew he saw something everyone else was crazy for ignoring. And as much as Kirk liked competition, because he made a point of _always_ winning, Starfleet's Golden Boy-to-be didn't wait around for someone to snatch up what he wanted as his and his alone.

But that doesn't mean he didn't take his time.

Jim Kirk spent the better half of his Starfleet Academy experience gently prodding and poking at McCoy. He somehow convinced the man to split a dorm room with him- a little federation file hacking never hurt anyone- and he went from there. It took the ever so modest Bones a while to catch on to Jim's intent, but by then it was already too late. Jim was invested, interested, and damn determined. And so the courting of Leonard McCoy began, first with the general gathering of intel. Jim spent months finding things out about his newest conquest; his likes, his dislikes, his habits, his fears (not that that one was hard to guess). He sucked it up like a sponge. And while Leonard spurned his initial advances like anyone who'd approached him since his divorce, the modest Georgian doctor with classical southern chivalry ingrained into his bones was overwhelmed, and a little touched, by Jim Kirk's advances. He didn't know how to shake the kid. Telling him "no" didn't work and neither did his mother of all glares that could castrate a man on the spot.

And low and behold, Leonard McCoy found himself undeniably in love with Jim Kirk at his little boy best. And as Jim Kirk was completely and irrevocably in love with his CMO, he also knew everything about him. Everything that no one else knew.

Such as when Bone's has his "time". And that being a time when Bones needs to sit in a warm bathtub- full of _real_ warm water, damnit!- and read a Harlequin romance novel that he hoards in secret in his private quarters.

And eat little chocolates with scented candles surrounding the rim of the tub. Jim shits you not.

So yeah, it's safe to say that Jim officially knows everything about Leonard Horatio McCoy. Except one thing. One thing that's so damn embarrassing to admit to. It's a problem that Jim's never run into before his relationship with Leonard.

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><p>"Bones, what do you want for your birthday?"<p>

Despite the situation, Bones is annoyed to hear Chapel barely conceal a snort from beside him as she rushes to clean away the blood from Jim's gaping abdominal wound.

"Damnit, Jim! Could you at least pretend I'm not wrist deep in your goddamn blood n' guts!"

"Don't worry Bones, the painkillers are workin' some sweet magic." Jim lifts his head up though he can't even feel himself doing it. "Dude! Is that my liver?"

Never let it be said that when CMO McCoy resorts to primitive medicinal applications, it isn't out of necessity.

And by primitive medicinal applications, McCoy means borderline viciously knocking his Captain unconscious with a PADD to the head because the damn sedatives don't do their work fast enough for his liking.

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><p>Leonard has been sitting at Jim's bedside for an hour at least, going on two as medical journals and anatomical diagrams on Vulcan anatomy have begun to swim before his eyes. Leonard sets the PADD aside, rubbing the sleep from his bleary eyes. After the Klingon escapade, most of the crew has left to their quarters to catch up on as many missed hours of sleep they can. Right now the Enterprise is run by a skeleton crew and Medbay is surprisingly calm. Leonard had dismissed his head nurse and as much staff as he could spare as all their patients were for now stabilized.<p>

But of course your hypocritical southern ass is going to by Jim's side all night, Leonard thinks bitterly to himself, giving the cold cup of coffee on the nightstand nearby a look of disdain.

Another half hour goes by, and Leonard's head is starting to slip form where it's rested on his fist when Jim finals makes a barely visibly twitch against the biobed. Leonard looks up, and Jim is frozen again.

"I know you're awake, you brat."

After a few moments of Jim hoping he can get away with faking sleep, his voice finally slips out from chapped lips, dry and cracked. "I hurt."

"So much for that sweet magic, huh?"

Jim snorts at that, raising a shaky arm to rest across his stomach. Just to check that the gaping hole that was there the last time he was conscious wasn't there now. When Jim is satisfied that his whole body is present and accounted for- if Leonard sees Jim nonchalantly cup his crotch for a moment he doesn't mention it- he lets his head flop back against the pillows.

"What was that shit?" Jim asks with a laugh in his voice. "Never seen my own liver b'fore."

Leonard grunts. "With your bat shit crazy body, I have no idea." He chew his lip in thought for a moment. "Could be a mixture of adrenaline and the painkillers that blocked out the pain and kept the sedative at bay."

"I think you mean my hot bod." Jim corrects as Leonard sets his PADD to the side. The older man rises from his chair with a few pops in his joints as he moves to examine Jim. Pulls open his mouth, shines a bright light in his eye, pulls his arms around, the whole sh-bang.

"My head hurts like a mother." Jim comments as Bopnes fusses over him in his gruff way. He reaches up to tenderly poke at the lump on his head beneath the soft blond hair. "I don't remember a head wound."

Leonard shrugs, his face completely guiltless as he continues with his examination. And when he's satisfied, he falls back into his chair next to Jim's bed, finally feeling exhaust pull at his bones.

But of course Jim is chipper as he always is post near-death. "So, you never answered my question." He says with a shit-eating grin that Leonard loathes whenever it's aimed at him.

"What question?"

"What do you want for your birthday?"

"Goddamnit, Jim!" Leonard tosses an arm over his eyes as he leans back in the chair. "I literally had my hand in your goddamn stomach! I could have reached down and crushed your balls and you wanted to ask about my damned birthday?"

"Well, it _was_ yesterday." Jim points out as if that makes his prior actions completely understandable. "And _both_ my balls have descended, I'll have you know."

"Next time I'll just crush your rectum then."

"That's harsh, Bonesy."

"Tough titties."

Jim frowns and Bones shrugs in response to his dissatisfaction. After a while he motions to Bones with a nod. "What do you want for your birthday? Seeing as your hands aren't in my intestines."

"I don't want any goddamn gifts, Jim. I was perfectly content letting my birthday pass by without any thought. But now that Christine knows, she's gonna convince everyone to try and get me something or God forbid throw me a _party_."

There are a few moments of tense silence as Leonard keeps his arm over his eyes.

For a moment Jim thinks he's fallen asleep.

"You hate getting presents cause of Jocelyn, right?"

Leonard immediately tenses and Jim wonders if his body could haul ass out of Medbay before Bones came at his with a hypo. But he reconsiders; he almost died; Bones wouldn't try and kill him again so soon.

"It's when all the shit started with her." Leonard quietly mumbles, his arm still over his eyes. As if he can't see Jim, then he's just talking to himself, like he always does in the dead of night when no one else can hear him. And Jim pretends he doesn't know that Bones grouses to himself when he thinks no ones listening and listens patiently.

"She got pissed that I didn't get her diamonds for our anniversary."

A part of Jim wants to say it's understandable, all things about women considered. But since its Bones, there's got to be something more to it, so he continues to wait in patient silence as the gears in his head prepare to turn.

"Diamonds." Leonard begins, finally leaning forward in his chair, folding his hands in his lap as he faces Jim. "Are the most thoughtless goddamn gift you can get a woman."

"But no, Jocelyn wants a goddamn diamond tennis bracelet! Apparently the thought I put into the gift I gave her didn't have nearly enough monetary value."

Leonard slaps his knees as he stands and walks over to a nearby table to load a hypospray with what Jim assumes is a sedative. "After that she's running around with half baked notions of me not loving her! And every goddamn birthday, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and anniversary only get goddamn worse."

Jim doesn't dare interrupt his somewhat calm rave as Leonard walks over and jabs the hypospray into his sore neck. He flinches and lets out a whine of protest to be met with Bones' usual snort of derision that says "Ya know, I wouldn't have to hypo you so much if your ass could stay out of trouble"

As Jim begins to feel a sedated sleep pull at his quickly fogging mind, he manages to gasp out; "You still haven't answered my question."

"I don't want a damned gift, kid." Leonard says, gently laying his hand over Jim's slightly bruised and swollen eyes to slide them shut and hasten his sleep.

"Then… Then what am I s'possed t' give you? F'r yer birthday?" Jim mumbles out, suddenly lacking the strength to reopen his eyes and let himself drown in Leonard's hazel orbs and stubbly face.

"You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give, kid." Leonard quietly says, still standing by Jim's bedside where he'll remain until he's certain that the kid's gone to sleep.

Well, fuck, Jim thinks to himself as he sinks into a soothing, dreamless sleep. What the hell do you give a guy who goes and says something like that?

Oh Bones, you harlequin hoarding, cantankerous old man.

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><p>Leonard is in his room, just getting off shift and redressing after a sonic shower when Jim strikes again. Leonard had expected Jim to lay the birthday shit to rest now that it's a week past.<p>

Albeit a week of Jim continually pestering the doctor.

_ "C'mon Bones, I'm not Jocelyn. Let me take a crack at this!"_

_ "Booooones, just gimme an idea! You said it yourself, you hate it when I think unsupervised!"_

_ "Now you're just being a grump! Come on, it's your birthday!"_

_ "Fine! Be a grump!"_

Which is why he is completely unsuspecting when he's commed by Jim; **Please report to the mess hall immediately.**

Looking back, Leonard thinks himself mighty stupid to not realize something was up. And when he arrives in the mess hall his worst fears are realized in the face of balloons, a piñata, a birthday cake, and the entire goddamn crew. And- what the holy hell, is Spock wearing a pointy birthday hat?

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEONARD!"

Leonard doesn't even stop moving for a second as he immediately pivots smoothly on his heel and is on his way out of the mess hall. But of course, Jim being considerate as always, had an ace up his sleeve and a pint sized birthday present with curly hair and freckles waiting to jump the unsuspecting victim.

"Daddy!"

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><p>Bones has no idea how Jim pulled it off. Well, he has a general idea, considering that Jim is the golden poster boy of Starfleet and could definitely get his way with someone like Jocelyn. But Leonard doesn't care because he's never been so <em>goddamn<em> happy in his life. He's got Joanna bouncing up and down on his knee, her every whim being catered to by the entire Enterprise staff as she's all smiles and puppy dog eyes.

Joanna's allowed to stay for the next week, all of which Jim has excused Bones from duty for. And Joanna couldn't be happier, charming everyone aboard the ship with the classical McCoy smile and dimples. And suddenly even Leonard is all charm as the new resident heartthrob among the Enterprise female population after they see the grumpy man turn completely putty in the tiny hands of his four year old daughter.

The man dotes on her like no other; telling her stories in funny voices, dressing up with her, and drinking imaginary tea from plastic cups. Sometimes "Prince Jim" is invited, but he's always being pulled away by his duties to his fair lady Enterprise.

Demanding bitch, that one.

But Joanna is stubborn. If "Prince Jim" is unable to attend her daily tea parties, then she'll bring the tea parties to him on deck. But as soon as she's out there, in front of the stars and the all these blinking lights and big buttons, her tea set is all but forgotten.

"Daddy, daddy! What's that do! Are those stars? Can I touch one? Can I name that one after mommy? That'll be you! What's that button do? Can I touch it? What's this sign mean?"

She convinces Sulu to let her sit in his lap as he pilots. Uhura teaches her to say her name in languages she didn't know existed and will probably forget by the time she finds something new and interesting. Scotty even lets Joanna blow something up in engineering, much to Leonard's chagrin until Jim finally convinces him she'll be perfectly safe with the explosion experienced Scotsman.

And the entire bridge crew almost piss themselves laughing when Joanna spends five minutes running in full circles around the bridge screaming "I can do zat! I can do zat! Wictor, wictor!"

Chekov turns a bright red and curls up on himself as Hikaru falls against him clutching his stomach, tears falling from his eyes. Jim's face is strained from laughing and is as red as Uhura's dress. Spock's eyebrows even ascend halfway up his forehead.

And that's when Joanna sets her sights on the hobgoblin.

It's a tense confrontation. Joanna staring up at Spock with her big hazel eyes that are unnervingly akin to the doctor's. Spock strains not to make eye contact with the little one, his eyes glued straight ahead and his posture stiff as Joanna sways at his legs. Jim is peeking out of the corner of his eye and snickering, while Leonard is secretly proud of his little girl from the other side of the command chair.

The bridge is quiet with restrained giggles and nervous shifting as the crew waits for either Joanna or Spock to make the first move.

"Spot." Joanna says decisively, temporarily removing her thumb from her mouth to speak.

"Spock." He counters again for the third time in the past ten minutes. "My name is Spock, young one."

"Spo-o-o-o-o-o-ck." She says, testing it on her tongue.

Spock doesn't respond, but his lips purse decidedly.

"Yer eyebrows look angwy." Joanna says, fiddling with the pink hem of her unicorn shirt.

Uhura accidently lets a snort escape her tightly clasped lips, and Spock gives her a raised brow before he turns back to little Joanna. He even bends down on one knee so that they're at eye level.

"I assure you, Joanna McCoy," Spock says purposefully slowly. "That my eyebrows do not entertain any sort of emotion."

Joanna seems to consider this for a moment, and Jim is clearly disappointed by the lack of entertainment from the situation.

But McCoy's rarely disappoint.

"My mommy says tha' daddy's angwy cause he's got a stick up his bum. Do you have a stick up your bum, Spock?"

There's a shocked silence.

"If you ask real nice, my daddy'll pull it outta your bum for ya!"

Surprisingly enough, Leonard is the first one to let out a crazy laugh. And as if that counts as permission, the entire crew breaks out into laughter.

And Spock smiles.

Now that Spock's boring again, Joanna has gone back to Chekov's "bony lap" and they take another stab at conversation, finding it exceedingly difficult since one speaks with a Russian accent and the other with a toddler's slur. But that doesn't stop them, and Leonard feels his heart soaring.

Catching sight of that rare smile, Jim deems it safe enough to gently tug at Leonard's wrist, finally coaxing his precious Bones to take a seat on the edge of his command chair as he scoots over to make room.

"Happy birthday, you old coot." Jim says with that same smug, shit-eating grin that Leonard just can't bring himself to hate right now.

Leonard grunts in response, but he can't wipe the smile off his face and he lets Jim drape an arm over his shoulder. He doesn't say thank you, but he allows himself to lean into Jim's embrace.

"Ya know, for my birthday, I'm fine with diamonds. Or a handy-j." He says in a smug sounding voice.

And Leonard's too happy to even get mad at that. And Jim's feeling pretty confident about his birthday.

"Daddy? What's a handy-j?"

"Ow! Bones! Where'd you even get that hypo!"

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><p><strong>AN:<strong>

I hope it made you chuckle.

Ezellia


End file.
